Just a Messenger
by avorialair
Summary: Christmas Eve, Naples, 1860. That’s what the Doctor had in mind before they ended up in Cardiff. A little ‘what if’ sequence that could have happened afterwards. Where there’s Christmas, there’s mistletoe... NineRose. [Complete]


**Title: **_Just a Messenger_  
**Author: **_Darksidion (seriously, what's the point in these? It's not like I'm going to be posting someone else's story)_  
**Character/Pairing: **_Nine/Rose (and the Messenger /winks/)_  
**Rating:** K+/T _for romantic affairs and innuendos_  
**Genre: **_Romance, fluff, angst and a little bit of humour thrown in for fun._  
**Words: **_8,547_  
**Summary: **_Christmas Eve, Naples, 1860. That's what the Doctor had in mind before they ended up in Cardiff. A little 'what if' sequence that could have happened afterwards. Where there's Christmas, there's mistletoe_  
**Spoilers: **_Season one "The Unquiet Dead"_  
**Disclaimer:**_Not mine, not mine, not mine. Right, now that I've got that out of my system, mistletoe anyone?_  
**Author's Notes: **_This one sort of ran away with me. I've been wondering about this for a while and yesterday the plot bunny installed itself firmly within my head. I didn't really mean for this amount of plot, or words, but Nine and Rose did their own thing and... well, this is what happens when the characters rule me rather than the other way around. Enjoy._

-I-

**Just a Messenger **

"Right, then."

The Doctor looks up at Rose, Cardiff already dying in his mind at the sight of her. His eyes flutter over the dress she is wearing, her bare shoulders, her hair tied up showing the attractive curve of her neck. He smiles slightly – this woman, she has class.

Rose stares right back at him, amused that his eyes are still on her. "What?" she laughs.

"Nothing," he shrugs, looking away. He folds his arms. "Just seems a pity to waste that dress."

"How d'you mean?" she asks, frowning and leaning against the console.

"I promised you Naples. You got Cardiff. Hardly seems like a fair trade."

"Yeah, but, I also got," she ticks them off on her fingers, "Charles Dickens, snow, weird gas ghost thing – "

"Gelth," he puts in.

"Yeah, whatever. I still got them all, didn't I? I mean, if there's all that in _Cardiff_, the rest of the world has gotta be... pretty amazing."

The Doctor considers her. "It's all much the same, Rose. Besides, there's snow in Naples."

She gives him that knowing smile, her tongue just touching the side of her mouth. "You want to go, don't you?" she teases.

"No," he replies, affronted that she knows him so well.

"You do! All the showing off you've done, and you _still_ want to take me to Naples."

She is trying not to laugh at him. He can tell by the way her mouth is twitching at the corners. He gives her a withering look.

"I just thought you might enjoy it," he answers defensively, facing aware from her and staring very hard at the monitor. The monitor that is currently blank. Not much of a distraction, really.

Rose smirks. "C'mon then, you big lug," she says affectionately, touching him on the arm. "Naples it is. That's Italy, yeah?"

He grins at her. "Yeah. 24th December, 1860, if I remember correctly."

He's already buzzing around the controls. Rose watches with her head to one side, her smile gentle in the green glow of the TARDIS.

"Sounds like some date," she muses.

The Doctor looks up and meets her eye. His face beaks into a cracking grin. "Rose Tyler – just you wait."

She snorts. "Just try not to get Cardiff this time."

He scowls but cranks down the leaver nonetheless. He may have got it wrong the first time, but there is nothing that's going to stop him getting it right a second. He ignores the trill in his hearts as he works, the one that's telling him this seems like an awful amount of energy to put into one trip. He tells himself that he's not trying to impress her; he managed that perfectly well with showing her the end of her world, and it's not exactly like she's complaining.

Still... Christmas Eve in a time and place that he would usually go our of his way to avoid... it's probably best he stays on his guard for this one.

They land within in a matter of minutes and the TARDIS stops rumbling. Rose is watching him and he sees a sparkle in her eyes that he thinks he's going to learn to love rather quickly.

She points to the door.

"So that. Out there. That's...?"

"Naples, yup. At least – it should be."

"So, Naples, Christmas Eve, 1860?"

He nods. "Problem?"

"No. It's just, one minute there's Cardiff and now..."

The Doctor frowns, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Not so long ago we were standing at the edge of the world, and you're impressed by a couple of thousand miles?"

"It's a lot closer to home," Rose reasons, stepping towards the door.

He looks perplexed.

"If you say so."

They've parked in some sort of alleyway, only just wide enough for the TARDIS itself. Out she steps into a world that's instantly cold at her skin and she shivers. The Doctor follows not long after her, shutting the door. He looks up to the sky and the stars glittering down on them.

"Oh, that's beautiful," he says with true wonder and appreciation in his voice.

Rose turns, momentarily thinking he's talking about her. Then she spots where he's looking and chuckles to herself. Her heart makes up for the beat it skipped, however, by thrumming twice as fast in her chest when he looks sharply at her, his blue eyes penetrating her deeper than she thought was possible.

She coughs and looks away, ignoring the blush creeping slowly up her chest.

The Doctor walks towards her, stopping just short of any physical contact right in front of her. She still isn't looking at him but he's so close he can feel his warm breath as it tickles her hair against her cheek.

"So," he says softly, staring at her intensely. "Who do you want to be tonight?"

She gulps a little, feeling somewhat flustered. That gaze of his is enough to trap her and make her squirm. She bravely looks at him, meeting his gaze and knows, somehow, it's a step she can never take back. His eyes are light in colour yet they somehow manage to burn into her. At this close proximity it's all she can do to remember to keep breathing.

"I... uh..." she fumbles over words, silently cursing herself for acting like a teenager with a crush. Even if that's what she is, that's not the point. "Who are you gonna be?" she asks instead, breathing.

He grins. "Sir John Smith, I think."

She arches an eyebrow.

"What?" the Doctor asks, bemused.

The corners of her mouth tip up in a smile. "You can be any man out of the whole of time and space and you pick a name like 'John Smith'?"

"What's wrong with it?" he counters, looking quite hurt.

Rose shakes her head. "Never mind."

"Right." The Doctor frowns. "For that, I'm gonna be the one who decides who you are." He moves around her towards the exit of the alleyway. "Come on. Or they'll start to wonder what two people could possibly be doing in an alleyway this size for so long."

Her eyebrows flick to her forehead in a moment of surprise, but she lets it go and takes his offered hand anyway. They walk slowly down the street, a few people bustling here and there but nobody paying them the slightest bit of notice – despite the Doctor's leather jacket, which Rose can't help feeling stands out like a sore thumb.

"This is gorgeous," she says quietly as they walk. The building glisten in the lamp-light, many of them raised above the pavement by rows of steps. Everything is covered with a thin line of snow, although it isn't snowing at the minute. Their feet crunch comfortingly behind them and Rose can't help but turn around and grin at the footsteps they've left.

The Doctor smiles amusedly at her.

"You can wipe that smirk off your face for a start," Rose teases, catching his eye. "Took you two goes to get this right."

His smile fades slightly. "I'd like to see you do better," he mutters as they walk.

"That an offer?"

"Most definitely not."

She laughs and moves into his arm a little, and he looks at her out of the corner of his eye. He has got so used to being on his own that having a human cling to him like his best friend is somewhat comforting. He can see things in her that she isn't aware of in herself yet, but he knows that one day she is going to do great things for her kind.

Then his eyes come up and he spots something fluttering on a lamppost. He pulls Rose over for a better look.

"How about that," he says with glee, prodding the poster with his finger. "There's a dance on tonight. Some kind of public holiday. Can't think what."

Rose smirks and he notices.

"What?" he asks, clueless.

"Er, Christmas?" she says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

He grins, because he supposes it is. "Oh. Yeah, I s'pose that'd do it."

"I can't believe it," she says, absolutely beaming at him and slipping her hand out of his. She walks a few paces in the snow, then turns around, her eyes sparkling at him. He looks at her contentedly. "I mean, like, ten minutes ago I was in Cardiff – with Charles Dickens, of all people – and now here I am, in the middle of flipping Italy, and it's _Christmas_. Christmas, again! How mad is that?"

He smiles gently, folding his arms and enjoying watching her fascination of the wonders of time travel.

"You've seen nothing yet," the Doctor grins smugly.

She catches his eye. "That so, Doctor?"

His eyes twinkle. "I can take you to the stars."

Rose begins to walk towards him slowly and he keeps his eyes fixed on her. There is something in her look that is so divinely _woman_ that he can't help but watch.

"I bet you could," she answers smoothly, tipping her head just so a loose strand of hair falls from her bun.

His eyebrows shoot to his forehead, but the amused sparkle doesn't leave his eye. He tilts his head slightly. "Are you flirting with me, Rose Tyler?"

She stills a moment but her eyes never leave him. There's a flicker of fear there, he sees, but it's fuelled by something more.

"So what if I am?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "Just wanted to make sure. Now, how about this dance?"

-I-

He escorts her to the dance – or ball, as it turns out to be – like a real gentleman. She stands at his arm and smiles sweetly while he prepares the psychic paper to show the attendant at the door, of course ignoring the fact that the ball is invite-only.

They stand in a queue, huddled together for warmth and so that they don't lose their place. The Doctor suddenly has a wicked thought and, quite unlike himself, he puts a hand on Rose's waist and leans towards her, whispering in her ear.

"How do you feel about being my plus one, again?" he asks and she can feel the smirk of his lips by her ear.

She finds herself blushing and pushing away internal heat, despite the cool Italian weather.

He pulls back and looks her straight in the eye. She lifts her chin slightly, feeling the lingering burn of his hand through the dress like nothing she's ever felt before.

"I'll be whoever you want me to be, Doctor," she retorts and wonders silently how long this dangerous flirting can go on for.

She's sure it's simply the atmosphere at Naples that's done this to them – it's not exactly the most unromantic place in the world, especially on Christmas Eve of all times, in the snow and the lights and at a ball and... Oh, God. Oh God of shoes and chips and other such useless things.

She's so thick.

This goes further than trying to impress her: this, she realises with both traces of mild horror and shock, is a date. This a real-life, honest-to-goodness, all-the-trimmings, compliment-full, flirting-inclusive, kiss-at-the-end date. She blushes hard after thinking about that one and it's not one she can hide easily.

"Rose? You okay?"

There is real concern in his voice and she almost laughs. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

The attendant smiles tightly as the Doctor hands him the psychic paper.

"Doctor John Smith, plus one," he reads languidly, then arches a suspicious eyebrow at both of them. Rose has a feeling her grinning might be a bit over the top, so bites on on her lip to try and stop.

"Problem?" the Doctor quips merrily.

Rose loves that in him. She's only known him a matter of hours, really, but already there are things about him that she loves (not that she'd be here at all if there wasn't something attractive about the prospect of time-travelling with an alien) – and his ability to just pass off the idea anything bad could happen to them is definitely something she loves. Especially since it's so often followed by trouble.

"This girl – I assume she is your plus one?" the attendant asks tartly.

"This _woman_ is just that, yeah. Lady Rosaline Tyler."

"Hmm... I don't see your name on the list."

The Doctor peers over the top and grins. "Look, there," he says, pointing. "That's me. The Doctor. Plus One."

If possible, the attendant's eyebrow arches further. His eyes rake the Doctor's attire slowly and he sighs through his nose. "Oh, go on, then," he says at length, gesturing to the door. "Have a good evening."

"Thanks. Merry Christmas."

"Likewise, I'm sure."

Rose can't help the giggles that bubble out of her mouth once they're inside. The Doctor grabs her hand and pulls her to his side.

"Something amusing?" he asks, hiding back a laugh himself. He pulls her hand to stop her from walking further, but it's a little stronger than he meant and she turns practically into him. He looks down at her, their bodies incredibly close, tucked away by the side of the foyer of the building.

Rose gulps, her laughter subsiding.

Then she remembers that this man is her friend, her guide, and grins again, looking up into his sparkling eyes. "'Lady Rosaline'?" she questions teasingly. "Bit Shakespeare for you, isn't it Doctor?"

He surprises her, lifting his free hand to her neck and for a split second she's not sure what he's doing. Her chest contracts as her heart beats faster.

His fingers are cool on her skin, light, and it sends a shiver from his touch down her spine. Her eyes lock on his.

Then she realises he is just catching some stray hair, and he reaches up behind her as he tucks it safely away. The intensity of his eyes doesn't diminish for a second and Rose suddenly wonders if he's quite the Time Lord he's said he is.

The Doctor's touch is gone as soon as it was there, but her skin tingles for a good few minutes afterwards.

"'There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy'," he quotes quietly in response to her question, the words are almost a seduction in their own right. His hand drops to her bare shoulder again and he's looking at her in that way that's so very Doctor she wonders how she ever let another man look at her at all.

Rose gazes at him for a long moment, then suddenly frowns – just as his hand begins to tighten. "Dickens?"

The Doctor laughs, shaking his head and dropping his hand to his side. "No, you ape. Shakespeare! Old Charlie-boy was quoting."

"Oh." The loss of his intimate touch already feels a little wrong; but Rose reminds herself she's only known this man – this alien – a matter of hours, if that. Twenty-four, at most. Yet it feels like she's known him all her life, and her trust in him is definitely strong enough for that.

There is music playing lightly through a doors at the end of the corridor and the Doctor looks up, over her shoulder.

"Sounds like an orchestra," he muses. "Strings mostly. Don't know what they're playing."

"One way to find out?" Rose suggests, backing away a little but offering her hand.

The Doctor grins then, in a moment of spontaneity, sweeps her hand to his mouth and lays a soft kiss on her knuckles.

She laughs. "You amaze me sometimes, Doctor."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

She smirks. "You do that."

They walk in, arm in arm, through the double doors at the end of the room. Sure enough there is a large, sweeping ball room, with couples already gliding around the floor very artistically.

The Doctor rolls his eyes and detaches from Rose's side. She pouts.

"Not a dancer then, Doctor?"

"Oh, I'm the perfect dancer, Rose," he assures off-handedly. "Just not in a room full of people. Prefer to do my dancing away from prying eyes, thank you very much."

They wander over to one of the circular tables on the outside of the grand room.

"Then what was the point in coming to a dance?" she points out, with only a little anger in her voice that she hadn't meant.

He shrugs, taking a seat. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. You gonna stand there all night?"

"No," she says pointedly. "I'm going to dance. Whether or not it's with you."

He smirks a bit at that. "No need to get like that. I brought you here as a bit of rest and relaxation after Cardiff. How can you relax if you're dancing?"

Rose snorts, but perches on a seat nonetheless. "You were gonna come here before Cardiff," she retorts, tucking the lose strand of hair up again. "So don't try and pretend this isn't part of a big plan."

He blinks at her. "You what?"

"You know, your... big plan..." she says, frowning a little now as she looks at him. Oh God, maybe she got this wrong and he's really _not_ after a date but really brought her here because... well, because it's Italy and who doesn't want to go to Italy? And oh, she's been so very, very incredibly stupid. This is the Doctor, a man with all time and space at his disposal. He's not going to be wasting feelings, big or small, on some ape he picked up as a favour for helping him with some plastic monsters. Oh... arse.

"My big plan to... take over the universe?" the Doctor tries helplessly, looking completely baffled.

_Yeah, one woman at a time_, Rose finds herself thinking, but pushes the unruly thought out of her head. She feels well and truly like an idiot now, and even more like a stupid teenager with a stupid, stupid crush. Maybe she'll just get drunk.

"Never mind," she says bitingly. She lets her gaze wander around the room, from the wooden floor, to the dancing couples, the the chandelier, to the balconies behind French – or possibly Italian – windows at one side of the room. She has a feeling she's going to need to get very, very drunk to even live through the embarrassment she's just caused herself.

It's a good thing the Doctor can't read minds. She hopes.

However, the waiter seemed to have read her mind, because at that moment he dipped to her level with a tray of numerous, identical champagne flutes. Rose lifts one off delicately while the Doctor reaches across. Hers is down her throat in less than half a minute and the Doctor stares.

"Steady on, Rose," he chuckles with some shock.

She shoots him a glare which isn't meant for him. He instantly frowns, puts his glass on the table, teaches across to her.

"Are you all right?" he asks, voice and eyes full of concern. She sighs a bit, reminding herself that it's just who the Doctor is to care about everyone he meets. She nods, but can give no answer.

He shrugs and sits back in his seat.

The orchestra is sitting over in the corner. It's only a small one, more like a collection of a few musicians rather than anything else, but the music they play is beautiful enough anyway. Rose contents herself with letting it drown her, turning so that she doesn't even have to look at the Doctor .

As time moves on a little, maybe half an hour or so, the Doctor is just beginning to wonder if Rose is really enjoying herself. Her shoulders look tense and the overwhelming urge to massage them back into a state of relaxation momentarily clouds his mind. He then shakes his head, removing all such thoughts. She's a human girl. A child. An untouchable. Which makes his desire to touch her so much more... yearning.

The Doctor sighs heavily and takes another sip of his champagne, his eyes focused on the creamy white of her skin. Something in him has changed since meeting her. She attracts him in strange ways, gives him a sort of fight that he had given up on years ago.

She is unlike any other creature he's met before, and that fascinates him. Part of him wants to learn her thoroughly from the inside out – it's the same part of him that's been locked away for a good many centuries, one he intends will remain locked away for a good few many more. He can't be doing with such distractions when time is this precious.

To be in contact with such an exquisite anomaly of the human race is so rare that he appreciates it all the more. He's had many companions, many people who have travelled with him, but her... there's something about her he can't bear to put down.

She would be the sort of book, he muses with a wry smile, that he probably would put down because in parts it became too intense to continue reading and, perhaps for an hour or so, he would find something else to do. But his mind would flit back to this book, this story enclosed in pages that not only had beautiful words but a beautiful look; he would keep returning to the point of no return, picking up the book, reading a few paragraphs, then setting it down just the same when it became too much for him.

He was always interested in a good book.

He sips again at his glass, enjoying the gentle taste on his tongue. His eyes flick to the dance floor as watches the scene and he suddenly wishes that Rose would turn around and talk to him.

Lost in his own thoughts, he's barely aware of Rose getting up. He catches her eye when she turns and notices, with some shock, that there is a man by her side who has offered her hand for a dance. He's taller than her, dark hair all over the place and a tender smile. The Doctor decides he doesn't like him.

"I'm going for a dance," Rose tells him sternly, and he knows there's nothing he can do to stop her. He has no excuse – no reason – to anyway.

He waves his hand. "Up to you. And I want you back before midnight."

Despite the fact he's unsure as to whether she's angry at him, she smiles at his joke. She's then led to the dance floor by the pretty boy, and for a reason the Doctor can't quite understand, all his sense are suddenly tingling and he sits up straight, his eyes fixed on her and only her. The thought that her dances should be reserved for him flickers into his mind but he pushes them down; he has no right to claim her. She is just a child.

Rose tries to pretend that she isn't very aware of the Doctor's eyes on her, but it's rather like trying to ignore someone poking you in the back with a cold, metal pole. Instead, though, she smiles to the man who takes her hand and places his other gently on her hip. She has the sudden fear that she doesn't know how to dance.

He tilts his head slightly.

"I'll lead," he says in a voice that sounds like earth and gravel. "If you want. I get the feeling you don't do this very often."

She arches an eyebrow at him and eh smiles, quite dazzlingly at her, picking up a rhythm with the music. He's all hair and smiles, this one. She quite likes it.

"What did you say your name was?" she asks while they move.

"Daniel," he answers, stepping smoothly in such a way that Rose can follow easily. She smiles at him, a little confusedly.

He laughs gently, brown eyes sparkling. "What? Is there something in my name that amuses you?"

"It's just... not very Italian," she points out.

"Very observant," he says, squeezing her hand slightly. The comment is neither sarcastic nor patronising, as maybe it might have been from a certain Time Lord sitting on the other side of the room. Glowering. A certain Time Lord she isn't thinking about at. At all. Glowering or not. Why is he glowering? And – no, she concentrates on Daniel again, a pastime that doesn't seem all that torturous given the strong jawline and inquisitive eyes. He can't be much older than herself, although Rose would have guessed about twenty-four has she been made to.

"I'm a traveller," Daniel continues, gazing at her. "I'm here for a couple of months before I'm up off again; I find my feet are quite restless at the moment."

"So I see. Talented, too."

He smiles. "Thank you. Might I ask your name?"

He encourages her to spin under his arm and she does so, grinning.

"Name's Rose," she tells him once she's back in his arms.

His eyebrow lifts interestedly. "Not a local either, I take it."

"Not as such."

"That being the case, you speak Italian extremely well. Perfectly, if you don't mind me saying so. Even down to the accent."

Rose blushes and bites her lip. All right, so being complimented on something that is not technically a skill may seem like cheating a little... but who's to say she can't cheat?

"Studied it in school," she lies.

"Really?" Daniel asks, genuinely interested. Rose notices fleetingly that his hand remains at her hip, never straining to move elsewhere on her body. She appreciates it. "Must have been some school."

"I had a good teacher."

His eyes twinkle. "I bet."

Rose is just about to ask him what he's doing here on Christmas Eve when the music draws to a close. Daniel takes the opportunity to bow, then stands straight with a smile.

"It was a pleasure, Miss Rose. Might I be so bold as to buy you a drink?"

Rose smiles slyly. "Don't they offer free drinks here?"

"Of course." He laughs, gently and easily, as though it's something he's used to doing. Rose likes the sound. "Nonetheless, to steal another few minutes of a beautiful woman's company is a task I'm willing to fight for."

She blushes harder, tipping her head in such a way that the strand of hair falls loose again and tickles her shoulder. She rolls her eyes.

"Oh, for God's sake..."

She reaches up and dislodges the clip in her hair, letting blonde curls furl out around her shoulders and framing her face in an aura of gold. She looks up and finds Daniel staring at her intensely, his mouth firmly closed but his eyes drinking in wonder. She laughs.

He looks away, a faint red tinge on his cheeks.

"I apologise," he says sincerely. "I... It was rude of me to stare. I'm sorry."

Rose can't help it. Out darts the tongue between her teeth as she smiles. "Like what you see?"

His eyes come back on hers with such intensity, she's momentarily taken aback. "Very much."

She is somewhat thrown by his simple honesty. She nods her head slightly. "Likewise."

He suddenly grins, which throws her more. He is very like the Doctor in some ways, she reflects. "I get the feeling I could like you very, very much, Rose. In fact I'm under the impression that I like you more with every passing second – if you'll forgive my being so bold. I don't wish to startle you."

They walk towards the edge of the room and stand in the open doorway, out of straight sight of everyone else. Rose smiles to herself; this time-travelling stuff isn't turning out to be bad at all.

"The moment you walked into the room," Daniel says, his hand outstretching for hers then stopping, "I felt drawn to you. Like there is something about you that needs focused attention."

"Bit confident there, aren't you?" Rose chuckles.

He looks up, abashed. "Sorry."

She shakes her head and takes his hand, her eyes sparkling. "Don't be."

This man in front of her may not be the Doctor (who she's definitely very much not thinking about), but he's charming and sophisticated and there _is_ something about him that she quite likes. It might be the boyish attitude, or the dark eyes, or the totally, ridiculous, deep chestnut hair.

"You entered with a man," Daniel says softly, his eyes grown gentle now as he strokes a thumb softly over her knuckles. Rose nods, aware that his touch his very unlike the Doctor's. It's warm and comforting; but it doesn't send an electric tingle through her at the mere thought of contact.

His eyes dip to the floor. "I... wondered if you and he were..."

Rose tries to catch his eye. "Were what?"

"Courting," he admits.

She actually laughs. "Me? And the Doctor? Courting? I don't think so, mate. I don't think he could do courting if it hit him on the nose."

Daniel smiles. "I took a brave chance in asking you to dance. Something flashed in his eyes and that was what made me wonder even more. But, if you say so – "

"Hang on," Rose interrupts, frowning a little now. "Something what?"

"He looked as though he weren't that happy with you wandering off with me," he chuckles. "I may be young, Rose, but I'd recognise that look anywhere. It's a man-to-man thing, maybe, but it was still there."

His hand became a little firmer now, squeezing comfortingly.

"I don't understand."

"He cares for you, Rose," Daniel says, locking eyes with her. "That much is obvious."

"Well, yeah... I guess he might..."

He tilts his head inquiringly. "And you don't?"

"I... I dunno..."

She becomes flustered now, wondering just why Daniel seems to have changed his tune. At first she thought he was flirting with her, but now he's all suddenly about the Doctor. She glances around. He isn't sitting where she left him. In fact, she can't see him anywhere at all. She worries, fleetingly, that he's left her – but part of her, deep in her heart, knows that he will never, ever do that. She trusts him like no one else, and that alone scares her.

"Rose," Daniel says easily and he captures her attention again. "Do you know why I asked you to dance?"

She shrugs, dropping his hand. "I'm gonna guess it's not cause you fancy me."

However, he catches her hand again, in a different way from the Doctor does. Daniel holds it as though they've been long friends – the Doctor holds it as though he _wants_ to be long friends.

Daniel chuckles softly. "No, Rose, that wasn't why I asked you to dance. Although, while we're on that point, I do. No doubts there. You're a very fanciable young woman."

She blushes again, her tongue tickling her lips. "Thank you. You're – "

"Don't worry about going there," he says kindly. "I'm not here tonight to charm you."

She frowns at him. "You sound as if you've been expecting me."

"Maybe I have," he answers cryptically. "But you, Rose, are something very special indeed. I wasn't sure at first but after talking with you, getting to know you slightly better, I know in my heart. You're something very special to the Doctor; someone no one else can ever, or will ever, be."

She blinks at him. "You're really not making any sense. At all. Like, on the scale of making sense, you're right down there with the algae."

Oh, smooth Rose, she tells herself, and she's still confused about everything that's going on and what it all means.

"The Doctor," Daniel says bluntly. "You feel for him."

It isn't a question.

Rose sighs. "You talk like you know him. Like you know _me_."

"He's shown you things in and out of this world that you could never have dreamed of."

She frowns now, feeling more than a little creeped out. She takes her hand from his a final time and this time he doesn't stop her. He's looking at her seriously now, his eyes holding wisdom beyond his years.

"What are you talking about?" she asks slowly, eyes raking over his lean figure like this is the first time she's really studying him. A nervous feeling rises in her stomach as her eyes glance back to his face.

"His is a world of darkness, Rose Tyler. A world of death and destruction and no matter where he goes, it will follow. You can help that. You can help him see who he really is. Not a coward. Not a killer."

"Okay, you can stop that," she says nervously, eyes wide with shock and fear. "And when did I tell you my name?"

"Do you trust me?"

The question is out of the blue. She frowns, hard. "I've only just met you."

"That wasn't what I asked," Daniel counters. His voice is still gentle and soft and in no way threatening.

"I don't know you well enough to trust you," Rose explains, looking at him warily. "We've had one dance."

"You trust the Doctor," he reflects wisely.

"We've shared a lot more than just a dance," she points out, and to reasons she can't even begin to fathom she swears that Daniel smirks.

"Not if I have anything to do with it." He appears to sober then, and straightens. "Take my advice, Rose. Go to him. Show him how much he means to you. You won't regret it."

Rose stares. "Who _are_ you?"

Daniel smiles wistfully. "Just a messenger. He's waiting for you on the balcony."

Rose turns towards where he's pointing but can see no Doctor. She turns back, more questions on her lips, but she's suddenly very startled to find she's standing in the doorway alone. She looks both into the hall and the ballroom, but sees no sign of her handsome stranger.

Feeling somewhat nervous, she crosses the room in search of the Doctor. Maybe he can give her answers to the questions whizzing around her head.

Although, at this time, the Doctor doesn't feel like answering questions. He is, as Daniel said, out on the balcony. He's off to one side, leaning forward and staring out over beautiful lawns and houses ahead of him. Naples is like it's been built into the side of a mountain, and the view, he has to admit, is quite fantastic.

This is why he travels.

Not to sit in a corner getting more and more frustrated at his companion for dancing with the wrong man.

No. He won't think thoughts like that. It makes even less sense than most other things in his head.

He sips from the flute he's brought with him, downing the last of the glass. Reaching to his side, he deposits it on the table then folds his hands as he leans back on the wooden railing.

He sighs, the sound and effort getting lost in the gentle wind that's out here.

"Hello, Doctor."

He isn't startled to hear the voice and doesn't turn.

"Thought you were off with the pretty-boy," he responds tartly, wondering why it is that he feels so tense about that subject.

He feels her presence beside him at the banister.

"He disappeared."

He drops his head for a moment, then looks at her. "I'm sorry."

Rose snorts. "Yeah, whatever Doctor. But thanks anyway."

"No, really, I am. If he'd have stayed maybe you could have got married and set up home here. It's quite nice – "

"Doctor," she groans, nudging his arm. She looks at him then, her smile quickly fading. "What was I supposed to do?"

He looks back, face full of honesty. "Nothing," he replies earnestly. "There's nothing you're 's'posed' to do. There aren't any rules, not with me. You do as you like and I'm fine with that – really, I am." He smiles at her. "If you're happy, that's all I need."

"I am happy."

He nods. "Good. All sorted, then."

He makes to straighten up, but a hand in the crook of his elbow stops him. He looks at her enquiringly.

"I'm happy I'm with you," she says slowly. He does nothing but stare back, mouth fixed shut. "I'm happy you found me and that you asked me along. I'm happy that you've shown me everything you've shown, and that you've brought me. I'm happy with you, Doctor."

"Rose, you don't have to – "

"I mean it." Her eyes are sparkling in the light and she looks so very beautiful it almost hurts. "I get that you're used to travelling alone and all that. But no matter what happens or who comes and who goes, I'm always gonna be here, with you. 'Cause that's what makes me happier than anything else and I... I don't think I could give that up for anything."

She takes her hand off his arm and looks in the other direction, hoping he can't notice the strong, urgent blush that's crept all the way through her.

His eyes coast her shoulders, hidden by hair, and her arms, and it suddenly occurs to him just how very lucky he is to have found her. Not that he didn't know that anyway.

"You're cold," he says matter-of-factly, noticing the goosebumps on her arms.

She looks back at him, smiling a little. "Well, it is snowing."

He looks up. She's right. It's soft and gentle, but it's definitely snowing and he grins. He then dislodges his jacket from his shoulders and places it around Rose's. She stares at it.

"What?" he asks with a laugh.

"Didn't think you ever took this jacket off," he says, trying not to seem conspicuous as she inhales the scent of leather and the Doctor and... something else... all mixed into one.

"I do sometimes. For special occasions."

Rose laughs. "And keeping me warm, that's a special occasion, is it?"

"Depends how I'm keeping you warm."

She stares at him, not too sure what to make of that comment. Her mouth hangs open slightly and, with little else to do, she laughs again.

"Just when I think I have you all figured out," she says, shaking her head, "you go and find new ways to surprise me."

He grins and it's almost a little manic. "That's me."

She laughs softly and looks out across the view. In a small breeze she hugs the jacket closer to her.

"This is... weird," Rose says after a few minutes of companionable silence.

The Doctor frowns and, instinctively, goes to remove his jacket from her. She chuckles, batting his hand away.

"Not that," she says, then smiles when his fingers twine between hers. His eyes dance in the snow. "Two Christmas eves in the a row."

"You could count it as the same Christmas Eve. If you wanted."

"I think it's more the fact that when I left Earth, it was summer time. Seems like I'm cheating to just jump to Christmas."

"You can always go back..." he reasons, not being able to look at her.

She squeezes his hand, giving him the courage to look up.

"I'd never leave you. Not now. Not after everything."

"You don't even know me," he says intensely and the balcony feels like it's just got a hundred times smaller.

"I don't care." He gulps, looking at her in his jacket looking at him and wonders just what it is about her that draws him towards her so. "And besides, I know enough about you to know that I trust you. I believe you when you tell me things. I travel with you in a blue box into the heart of danger 'cause I believe you'll keep me safe and I'll do everything I can to keep you the same way. That's not something you do for someone you don't know."

Maybe that's why, he thinks.

"I'm dangerous," he tries to tell her, falteringly. Why is he trying to push her away so hard?

"You asked me to come with you."

He does stand now, dropping their hands and looking out over the lawns that are already blanketed with snow.

"Yes, I did," he agrees. "But it was... rash. Stupid. A mistake. Something you do in the heat of the moment without thinking."

She frowns, a little hurt, and pulls his jacket around her further. He meets her eye, trying to hide his emotions and failing. This woman has changed his life. He is _changed_ because of her and he's going to treasure that for the rest of his days.

"Is that what you're trying to tell me, then?" she asks, unable to keep the hurt from her voice. "That you want to take me back?"

"No," he says with brutal honesty. "That's not what I want. I want the exact opposite of that. But I need to know you're sure about this, Rose. I need to know if this is just a quick ride, or..."

He trails off, unable to even think clearly any more. He paces past her and stands in the doorway, his hand on the frame and his eyes watching the dancing couples. It all seems so very separate from him now.

"When we were trapped in that dungeon," he says slowly, bowing his head, "I literally thought we were going to die. I'd taken you out of your time, your home, away from your family and you might never have seen them again."

"That was my choice," Rose tells him firmly and he's surprised to find her by his side.

"I nearly got you killed," he admits bitterly.

"I'm just as likely to get hit by a bus wandering aimlessly 'round London. This is where I'd rather be – "

"You say that now – "

"I said it in Cardiff." Her voice is even but her eyes, he notices with some guilt, are full of tears. "I meant it then and I mean it now. We'll go down fighting and we'll go down together." She reaches for his hand, looking up to him gently. "'Cause I don't know about you Doctor, but that's pretty much all I've got."

His eyes searches hers longingly for an answer she doesn't have.

"You're like no one else I've met before," he murmurs, almost to himself.

Rose smiles. "You're hardly the regular, either."

"Regular what?" he asks, confused.

"Never mind."

She looks like she's about to leave and for a moment he's terrified about breaking the ambience between them. So he stops her. He reaches out and touches her and she stills, gazing up at him as though she were a forest deer.

His eyes drift over her and Rose shivers; it has nothing to do with the snow, despite the wayward flakes in her hair.

"You really are beautiful," he says in a voice that's a lot more guttural than he remembers. He clears his throat.

Rose, for the millionth time that night, blushes and isn't quite sure what to say.

"You've used that one tonight, Doctor," she chides gently, nudging him in the ribs.

"I know. But I don't care. You really are. I mean – look at you: you're the epiphany of beauty. You put men like me to shame."

He brushes the back of his knuckles across her cheek, feeling so lucky to touch such a pure and gentle creature. It screams wrong at him in so many ways, but suddenly right now, he really doesn't care. Just to be close to her is good enough.

Rose laughs gently, staring up at him as innocent as the child she should be in his eyes.

"I'm sure if you tried this dress on, you'd be beautiful too, Doctor."

"You'd be just as beautiful without." The words are tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them, cascading like water from a waterfall. His voice is gentle and his hand cups her cheek smoothly, gently, giving her every chance to push it away.

He's taking a huge risk here, but he can feel tension between them like nothing he's ever felt before and his hearts race with the danger he's installing. He really shouldn't be doing this; but he can't stop.

There are many, many ways this conversation can go and, after a stunned silence, Rose finally manages to find her voice. She dismisses answers such as 'know that for a fact?' and 'why don't you find out' and 'yeah, well, isn't this weather gorgeous?' for something that is hopefully a happy medium.

"Doctor, are you flirting with me?"

He considers for a moment, then looks her dead in the eye.

"Oh, I hope so."

The next thing she knows, his hand has slipped to her waist, under his jacket, and he's pulling her into him. It isn't forceful and gives her every opportunity to pull away; but she doesn't. Partly because she's so shocked at what he's just done, and partly because this is exactly where she wants to be.

Hand at her hip, the other snaking its way through her hair, his eyes positively _burn_. He has lost all remnants of self-control. As an afterthought he adds, "I really hope so."

She gasps his name quietly in shock and he looks at her deeply. His thumb traces patterns on the dress and he watches her reaction.

"Look up," he suggests softly, and she does so.

Above them, hung from the top of the frame in a sliver of silver ribbon, is a sprig of mistletoe. It flutters gently in the breeze. Rose looks at the Doctor again to find his eyes on her.

"That's mistletoe," she says rather obviously. His hands tightens and a smile pulls at his mouth.

"Yes, it is."

"And... we're standing under it."

"Yes, we are."

"Okay." Her voice is a little shaky now and the Doctor's hand strokes her cheek again. "Just... clearing that up."

They stand looking at each other for a few moments and Rose isn't quite sure what to do. She's stuck between what she wants and what she feels is right. Being this close to the Doctor is something else all together and she isn't quite sure what it means.

Then he frowns a little, sliding her hair back behind her ear.

"You said your pretty-boy disappeared," he says.

Rose nods, the touch of his skin on hers electrifying her senses.

The Doctor leans forward, whispering in her ear. "He's an idiot."

She closes her eyes as his breath descends over her skin, causing her to shiver in the most remarkable way.

"Doctor..." she utters in the silence.

Before she can register a moment of time there are lips on hers, gentle and cool but sparking off all sorts of other feelings in her body. He kisses her smoothly, slowly, with so much held back passion it makes her crave more. At her willingness he parts her mouth slightly, sliding his tongue out just so to tease her bottom lip and the tip of her own.

Rose shudders in his arms. He's an incredibly good kisser and she craves more from him, wrapping her arms around his neck and keeping him close as the kiss deepens and he slides that little bit further into her mouth.

After what only feels like a few seconds (but is actually more accurately a few minutes) Doctor pulls back, his eyes dark and hooded with desire.

"Merry Christmas, Rose," he says quietly, his voice just this side of uneven.

She laughs, bending her head forward and nuzzling at his neck. "Merry Christmas, Doctor."

His hand slides around to her back and he holds her close, his eyes scanning the room as his interest piques.

"What did you say his name was?" he asks, frowning somewhat.

"The guy who asked me to dance?" Rose mumbles from his neck. It tickles and he holds back an insistent smile.

"Yeah, him."

"Daniel."

"Doesn't sound like a local."

Rose detaches from him and looks up. "He's not. I'm not even sure he was... human."

His face becomes worried now. "What d'you mean?"

"He seemed to know you, Doctor, and he knew me. He said that... he said I should come find you on the balcony 'cause you needed me, and then he disappeared. Like, I turned around and he was gone."

The Doctor sighs, slipping his hands away from Rose's body but making sure to take her hands in his.

"Sounds like we've got trouble."

"No," Rose counters, shaking her head. "He wasn't after anything. He just seemed like he really wanted you and me to..."

The Doctor looks up. "To what?"

Blushing, she indicates above their heads at the mistletoe.

"Oh." He thinks for a moment, staring into nothing. Then he looks up at Rose and tugs gently on her hand. "Maybe we'll never know who he was. But he was right. I do need you. More than you'll ever know."

Rose smirks, dipping her head to look at him playfully. "I need you pretty bad right now, Doctor."

His eyebrows lift curiously. "That a fact, Miss Tyler?"

She nods, her eyes on him.

"Well, then," he says, stepping towards her and closing the space, "I think we'd better do something about that."

He drops his head for a chaste kiss on her lips. After a few moments, he pulls back just enough to speak. "How about we head back to the TARDIS?" he suggests, hand dancing over her shoulder. Rose shivers and nods against him, unable to form words.

He moves to stand behind her, angling her body towards the door.

"It's getting quite cold," she murmurs and he stops. He lifts the hair from the back of her neck and lays a single kiss to the skin there. He then bends forwards, speaking so close to her ear she can feel his lips move.

"I'll warm you up; but like I said, I do my dancing away from prying eyes."

"That a promise?" she asks as he pulls her back into him. Warmth floods her at his touch and she swallows hard.

He nips lightly at her earlobe, but doesn't answer. Then he takes her hand and leads her across the ballroom, outside into the snow, into the place they both call home and amongst all kinds of stars Rose could never have imagined. He is, in retrospect, a very good dancer; she is, in retrospect, very beautiful without the dress.

Such is life in a little blue box.

-I-

Daniel watches the Doctor lead his dame out of the ballroom with a smile on his face. His mission, for tonight at least, has been successful. His eyes scan the room for further possibilities, but nothing strikes him as powerfully as the feelings between the two he has helped tonight. Some loves, he realises, are there already and simply need a helping hand. He isn't one to alter humans' emotions, but if the possibility for love is there then it is his job to see it gets dealt with

His overseer will be pleased indeed; Christmas Eve is one of his favourite nights to work.

So, with happiness in his heart, he settles back to enjoy the rest of the music.

Such is life as a messenger of Cupid.


End file.
